


College Adventures

by TheJediAssassinGirl



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: ALL THE NEWSIES ARE GAY, All based on Newsies live but you knew that already, Andrew Keenan-Bolger is adorable, College AU, Crutchie loves decorating!, Jeremy Jordan is a god, M/M, So is Tommy Bracco, They go to a fictional college called King College in New York, bc ha ha king of New York I’m hilarious, i just love Newsies ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-01-31 21:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18599950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJediAssassinGirl/pseuds/TheJediAssassinGirl
Summary: Racetrack Higgins is excited to go to college. He’s significantly less excited about his very handsome but highly irritating roommate.





	1. The Prissy Beefcake

Racetrack Higgins groaned as he finally managed to get his very heavy suitcase, one of many, up to the floor that his dorm was on. He’d been thrilled to learn that his dorm room was on the top floor of the building, but that enthusiasm was quickly dampened as he arrived to find that all the elevators were out of order. He paused at the top of the stairs, panting. He was a gymnast and a horseback rider, not a football player. He didn’t have the kind of muscle needed for heavy lifting like this.

“Hey, move outta the way, will ya?” A voice snapped from behind him. A short, muscular boy in a close-fitting red tank top shouldered his way past Race, glaring at the blond as he went past. Race groaned internally as the boy walked into the dorm room with the large sign on the front that read  _ Welcome to King, Spot and Racetrack! _ in large Olde English-style letters. This year was going to be interesting.

“Hey! Race!” A more familiar, more welcome voice called. Race turned to see his best friend from high school, Jack Kelly, come running down the hall towards him. He didn’t even have time to brace himself before he was swept off his feet in a bear hug. “Why didn’t ya tell me you were comin’ here?!”

“Just kept forgettin’ ta mention it!” Race replied. “Are Davey an’ Crutchie here too?” 

“Yeah,” Jack said. “They’s in the room. Davey’s helpin’ Crutchie decorate. I managed ta escape.” Race could hear voices from inside the room that Jack had pointed out.

“Crutchie, baby, these flags are all identical,” Davey’s voice complained, sounding tired. “Does the order  _ really _ matter?”

“They ain’t identical!” Crutchie’s voice insisted. “They’s different, an’  _ that _ one goes in the middle!” Race laughed.

“Sounds fun,” he said. 

“Honestly, I love Crutchie ta death,” Jack said. “But he gets real specific about decoratin’, an’ since he can’t move all that well cuz a his leg, it’s me an’ Davey that have ta make his dream a reality. Here, lemme help ya get the rest a your stuff up here.”

“You just wanna get outta helpin’ your boyfriends decorate!” Race accused him.

“ _ Shhhhhh! _ ” Jack shushed. “You’s my excuse. C’mon!” Race moved his suitcase outside the door to his room, and he and Jack went back down to his car to get the rest of his stuff.

“What’re you majorin’ in?” Jack asked as they walked down. Race shrugged. 

“Dunno,” he said. “Probably dance. You?”

“Art,” Jack said. Race grinned. 

“Shoulda guessed,” he said. “Lemme guess, you’s minorin’ in set paintin’?” 

“Set  _ design _ , ya ass,” Jack huffed. “You’s actin’ a lot like someone who wants ta lug all his shit up ta the fourth floor all by himself.” Race draped his arms around Jack’s neck.

“Aw, c’mon, Jackie,” he said. “Y’know you love me. Besides, it’s good trainin’ for baseball season.” Jack just rolled his eyes and pushed Race off.

“If I had a dollar for every time someone used that line ta try an’ get me ta lift somethin’ heavy, I’d have enough money ta buy this college,” he said. 

“Okay, fine,” Race said. “Please refer to point A: you love me.”

“No, I  _ love _ Davey and Crutchie,” Jack corrected. “I  _ like _ you. Right now, I’m seriously considerin’ goin back up ta my boyfriends.”

“I won’t make ya decorate my dorm!” Race said desperately. “C’mon, Jack! Please?” 

“Fine,” Jack said. “You owe me.” Race snorted. 

“ _ You _ owe  _ me _ ,” he replied. “I’m givin’ ya an excuse not ta be helpin’ Crutchie set up your dorm.”

“We’s even then,” Jack said. 

“Deal,” Race said. Jack helped him carry the rest of his stuff up to his dorm. Race pulled open the door, bracing himself for a snarky remark from his new roommate. To his immense relief, the boy was nowhere to be seen. Behind him, Jack breathed a sigh of relief as well.

“Thank god,” he said. “The prissy beefcake ain’t here.”

“You’ve met him?” Race asked. 

“Unfortunately,” Jack replied. “Ran into him when I was haulin’ my shit up earlier. I’ve also played him in baseball a couple a times. Plays third for the asshole Brooklyn team we always hate playin’. He’s one hell of a hitter, though. I’ll give him that.” He helped Race set up his room. The two laughed and talked as they put clothes away, made the bed, and hung up posters. Race hung his gay pride flag above his bed. 

“Why don’t ya come back to my room?” Jack suggested once they’d finished. 

“Okay,” Race agreed, relieved. He did  _ not _ want to have to deal with his roommate when he came back. He and Jack walked next door to the room that Jack shared with his two boyfriends. The room had apparently been decorated to Crutchie’s satisfaction, because Davey was sitting on the frankenbed that they had made by pushing by two of the three beds together. Crutchie sat on his lap, and Davey was running his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. They both looked up as Race and Jack came in.

“Jack!” Crutchie cried happily. Jack grinned. He kissed Crutchie, then Davey.

“There you are, you  _ ass _ ,” Davey said. “You left me to suffer by myself!” 

“I was helpin’ Race!” Jack protested. 

“Baby!” Crutchie whined. “You wasn’t  _ sufferin _ ’!”

“Just joking, love,” Davey said. He made eye contact with Race.  _ I’m not joking _ , he mouthed.

“Oh, Race is here!” Crutchie said, noticing Race. “Hi, Race!”

“Hey, Crutchie!” He replied.

“This’s great!” Crutchie said enthusiastically. “The group’s all here! We can keep goin’ with our campaign!” 

“Sarah an’ Katherine are here too?” Race asked.

“Yeah,” Davey said. “You didn’t know?”

“Listen, Dave,” Race said. “Bold of you to assume I paid attention to  _ anything _ that happened last semester of senior year.”

“That’s fair,” Davey said.

“Hey, y’know the angry beefcake we ran into in the hall earlier?” Jack asked, now sitting on the bed and gently massaging Crutchie’s bum knee as the blonde boy sighed happily.

“The one you played baseball against?” Davey asked. “The one you hate?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. 

“What about him?” Davey asked.

“He’s Race’s roommate,” Jack said. Davey winced sympathetically.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “There’ll always be an extra bed in here that you can use if you need it.”

“Thanks,” Race said. They sat around and talked for a while until Crutchie fell asleep on Davey’s lap. Race reluctantly went back to his dorm. The angry beefcake, whose name was apparently Spot, was there, hanging up a pink, purple, and blue bisexual pride flag above his bed. 

“So you’s Racetrack,” he said, glancing at Race as he came in.

“Yeah,” Race said. 

“That’s your legal name?” Spot asked.

“No, it ain’t my legal name,” Race said, rolling his eyes.

“What’s your legal name, then?” Spot asked.

“I ain’t tellin’,” Race said. 

“Why not?” Spot prodded. 

“I don’t  _ like _ my legal name,” Race said. “That’s why I don’t  _ use  _ it. What about you? Is Spot your legal name?”

“Yeah,” Spot said. “You play any sports?”

“Yeah,” Race said.

“Which ones?” Spot asked.

“Gymnastics,” Race said. “An’ horseback ridin’.” Spot snorted. Race glared at him. “Got a problem?” He asked.

“Those ain’t sports,” Spot said.

“‘Course they are,” Race said. “They’s in the Olympics.”

“Yeah, well so’s ping pong,” Spot said. “An’ that ain’t a sport either.”

“What do you play, then?” Race shot back, getting more irritated by the second. 

“Football an’ baseball,” Spot said. 

“Oh, that makes a lotta sense,” Race said. Spot’s eyes narrowed. 

“Whaddya mean?” He demanded.

“Explains why you’s such an insufferable asshole,” Race replied. “Most football players are.” He grinned smugly as Spot gave him a death glare, but inside, his mind was racing. Why did the sight of Spot’s perfectly toned muscles make his face flush? Why couldn’t he stop staring at Spot’s gorgeous, chiseled jaw? Why did his heart start beating faster when Spot looked at him with those beautiful dark eyes? Why, why,  _ why _ , was he catching feelings for his asshole roommate?


	2. Maybe

Race sat at Jack’s desk, staring at his statistics worksheet. He needed to get this done, and Jack and Crutchie weren’t helping. Having both finished their work, they were spooning on their frankenbed, Jack’s fingers carding gently through Crutchie’s hair. Seeing them so happily in love made Race’s heart ache, and he found his thoughts drifting to Spot, his tan skin and dark hair and rippling muscles. He pictured himself kissing the shorter boy, seeing the love in Spot’s eyes. With a shake of his head, Race pushed those thoughts away, staring at the paper in front of him.

“Want me to massage your leg, baby?” Jack murmured into Crutchie’s ear. Crutchie nodded, beginning to make contented little noises as Jack’s large, capable hands tenderly worked the tightness out of his muscles. Race forced himself to look back at his homework. Letters and variables jumped out at him from the page, but none of them were sticking.

“God, I fucking _hate_ math!” He complained.

“What? Why?” Davey asked, looking up from the essay he was writing. “Math is fun!”

“No it ain’t!” Race said. “It’s dumb, an’ I hate it! You just like it cuz someone busted up your brains or somethin’.”

“Here, let me help,” Davey offered, walking over to Race. “What kind of math is it?”

“Stat,” Race said. “I thought it’d be easy, y’know, cuz it’s probability an’ odds an’ shit. I _know_ odds, I’ve been goin’ ta the races ever since I was little, but this ain’t that an’ I don’t like it!”

“How’s the roommate from hell?” Jack asked as Davey started to help Race.

“Oh, he’s worse now,” Race said.

“Who, Spot?” Crutchie asked. “He’s in my first year seminar. He ain’t that bad.”

“That’s cuz you ain’t livin’ with him,” Race said. “He must a seen me practicin’ gymnastics, cuz he’s started teasin’ me about my “pretty little flips.” It’s _awful_.”

“He can’t be _that_ bad,” Davey said.

“He is!” Race replied. “Why do ya think I spend so much time in here?”

“Damn, I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I knew he was bad, but I didn’t know he was _that_ bad.”

“Yeah,” Race said. “An’ Reslife won’t let me change rooms.”

“Hey, it’ll be ok!” Crutchie said, always the optimist. “It’s only a month in. I bet you’ll be best friends by the end a the year!”

“Yeah,” Race said doubtfully. “Maybe.”


	3. I Can't Tell You How I Feel

Race woke up as a pen hit the back of his head, quickly followed by another. Judging by the open earth sciences textbook on the desk in front of him, he’d fallen asleep while studying. He sat up, glaring at Spot. His roommate sat on his bed, poised to throw another pen. He smirked at Race.

“What the  _ fuck _ , Conlon?!” Race demanded. “I was  _ asleep _ !”

“Yeah, at your desk,” Spot replied. “Ya can’t sleep at your desk, Racer. You’ll get all stiff an’ sore an’ you won’t be able ta do all those pretty little flips a yours.”

“Don’t call me Racer!” Race snapped.

“Ooh, feisty,” Spot teased, his smirk getting bigger.

“God, Spot Conlon, if ya don’t shut the fuck up  _ right now _ , I swear I’ll—” Race threatened.

“You’ll what, pretty boy?” Spot taunted. “Set your horses on me? Do cartwheels until I die?” Race glared him. 

“You’s fuckin’ infuriatin’,” he growled, grabbing his shower stuff and storming off to the bathroom. Spot sighed as he watched Race go. Why did he have to be so  _ bad _ at this? Why couldn’t he just tell Race that he loved him? Why did he have to make everything worse whenever he tried to talk to his roommate? He just wanted Race. He wanted to kiss Race’s soft lips, stare into his beautiful blue eyes, run his hands along Race’s gorgeous freckled skin, but he  _ couldn’t _ . He knew he couldn’t, because Race  _ hated _ him. Right then and there, Spot made a decision. He was going to try to be nice to Race and see where that got him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!


	4. I Can't Watch You Burn Out

So that’s what Spot did. He woke up early every day to get coffee for Race, making sure it was just the way Race liked it. He made sure their shared mini fridge was always stocked with Race’s favorite snacks. He tried hard not to antagonize Race. When Race would fall asleep at his desk, which happened a lot, Spot would pick him up and put him in bed. As finals approached, Race got more and more stressed and Spot became more and more worried about him. Race would wake up early and go to sleep late, consuming an obscene amount of caffeine to keep himself going, and often working himself to tears. One Saturday, while Race was in the shower, Spot took all of his books and hid them. Race came back into the room just as Spot sat back on his bed and pulled out his phone. Race’s blonde curls were still damp from his shower. He wore a loose T-shirt made of a soft, slightly drapey material, and a pair of jeans. To Spot, he looked angelic. Race sat down at his desk, obviously intending to start studying again, but his brow furrowed as he took in the book-free surface.

“Where’d my books go?” He asked.

“I ain’t tellin’,” Spot replied.

“Spot, gimme my books back!” Race cried. “I gotta study for stat!”

“No, ya don’t,” Spot said. “What ya gotta do is relax. You’s burnin’ out. You’s too stressed.”

“Why do you care?” Race asked harshly.

_ Because I love you, _ Spot wanted to say, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He simply shrugged.

“With the amount a caffeine you’ve been drinkin’ lately, you’s gonna crash an’ burn real soon if ya don’t relax,” he said. “An’ it’s gonna be real ugly. I don’t wanna have ta see that, or clean up from it. Go hang out with your friends. Play that dumb dragon game you guys like.”

“D&D happens on Wednesday nights, not Saturday mornings,” Race said. 

“Whatever,” Spot said, waving his hand dismissively. “I don’t care what ya do, just get outta here an’ have some fun. I ain’t lettin’ ya back in til eight tonight.” Realizing that there was no way he could win this argument, Race grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys and went to Jack, Crutchie, and Davey’s room.

“Hey, Race,” Jack said as Race walked in. He was holding Crutchie on his lap, watching his boyfriends play Super Smash Bros. “What’s up?” he asked. 

“Spot kicked me outta the dorm,” Race said. “Hid my books so I couldn’t study. Said I was too stressed, an’ that I needed ta go have fun.”

“He’s right,” Davey said. “I know you don’t like him, but he’s— oh,  _ fuck you _ , Crutchie!” Crutchie, playing as Pit, had pushed Davey’s Link off a cliff.

“Yes, please fuck me,” Crutchie replied, grinning mischievously up at Davey.

“With the way you’ve been treating me this morning, you’ll be lucky to get a kiss from me today,” Davey huffed. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was so  _ rudely interrupted _ ,” Crutchie giggled. “I know you don’t like Spot, but he’s right. You’ve been super stressed lately, and it’s really unhealthy. You’re literally running on caffeine and fumes. A break will do you good.”

“It’s kinda cute,” Race admitted before he could stop himself. Jack gave him a weird look, and Race blushed, sitting down on the spare bed. “I mean…I dunno,” he said. “It’s real weird, but lately he’s been… nicer ta me. Whenever I fall asleep at my desk, I wake up in my bed, an’ there’s coffee on my desk every mornin’ just how I like it, an the fridge has always got my favorite stuff in it, an’ I know I didn’t buy any a it. I think he’s been doin’ it. He’s also been a lot less annoyin’ lately. Dunno why he’s doin’ it, but… I like it. I think I might like him. Just a little.”

“Sounds like he likes you too,” Jack said. “I mean, if I was tryin’ ta get a guy ta not hate me anymore, that’s how I’d do it. An’ ya gotta admit, aesthetically, Spot Conlon’s pretty hot. Ow! Dave, I said  _ aesthetically _ ! I don’t wanna kiss him!”

“Good,” Davey huffed. 

“So what should I do?” Race asked. Jack shrugged.

“It’s up ta you,” he said. 

“Oh, you’s  _ so _ helpful,” Race said. Jack grinned. 

“I try,” he said.

“Hey, what do we wanna do today?” Crutchie asked.

“We could go into the city,” Davey suggested. “Go shopping, see a movie, maybe go to a couple museums.” 

“Ooh, that sounds fun!” Crutchie said.

“Sure!” Race said. 

“Sounds like a plan!” Jack said. 

“God, Crutchie I’m gonna kill you!” Davey said as Crutchie killed his character again. 

“No you ain’t!” Crutchie replied. “I gotta highly trained attack boyfriend!” He snuggled into Jack’s lap, and Jack wrapped his arms around Crutchie’s waist.

“Sorry, Dave,” he said. “I’m sworn to protect Crutchie.”

“Whatever,” Davey huffed. “Let’s go out. This game’s stupid anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s what the loser always says,” Crutchie teased as Jack helped him to his feet, handing him his crutches.

“You’re on thin fucking ice, Crutchie Morris,” Davey said grumpily, getting up himself. 

“Awww, you love me,” Crutchie replied, kissing Davey.

“Yeah, yeah,” Davey said, rolling his eyes but kissing Crutchie back anyway.

“Hey, I gotta go bargain with Spot,” Race said. “I need ta get my coat, but he said I’m not allowed back in til eight.”

“Alright,” Jack said. “We’ll be waitin’ in my car. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Race said. “I’m gonna need it.” He went to his dorm and banged on the door as Davey, Jack, and Crutchie headed for the elevator. “Spot, lemme in!” He yelled.

“You ain’t allowed back in til eight!” Spot replied. 

“Lemme in!” Race begged. “I need ta grab my coat, ya asshole!”

“Which coat?” Spot asked. 

“Black parka,” Race said. A few seconds later, the door opened and Spot tossed the coat at Race.

“Woulda taken two seconds for you ta lemme in so I could grab the coat myself,” Race grumbled.

“Sure, but where’s the fun in that?” Spot asked, grinning. “Have a great day!” He gave Rave a flirty wave and disappeared back into the room, closing the door behind him. Race sighed, putting on his coat and walking down to Jack’s car.

“What took ya so long?” Jack asked.

“Had ta bargain with Spot for a good five minutes before the asshole gave me my coat,” Race said, getting into the backseat next to Davey. “Let’s go.”

“Hey, do you really think ya like Spot?” Jack asked as they drove. Race’s face flushed. 

“I—I dunno,” he stammered. “Sometimes he’s real sweet, an’ then he goes an’ he pulls some shit like this, an’ I just don’t know!” 

“Jack, stop interrogatin’ him, the poor guy!” Crutchie scolded from the passenger seat. He turned to look at Race. “We’s here for ya, Race,” he said. “I know it’s hard, but we’ll help ya through it, an’ we’s always here if ya need ta talk.” Race smiled. 

“Thanks, Crutchie,” he said. The group, by some miracle, managed to find parking. They spent the day walking around New York City, buying holiday gifts for their friends and family. After much internal debate, Race bought a  _ Hamilton _ travel mug for Spot, knowing how much his roommate loved the hip hop musical. At Crutchie’s insistence, the group went to see  _ Star Wars _ . They also wandered around a few museums because Davey wanted to. They ate dinner in the cafeteria together, talking and laughing. At eight o’clock, Race knocked on the door of his dorm again. This time, Spot let him in. Race hung up his coat and flopped onto his bed. 

“You okay?” Spot asked, concerned. Race nodded. “Did ya have a good day?” Spot asked.

“Yeah,” Race said. “Can I have my books back now?”

“I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow,” Spot promised. “You need ta sleep tonight.”

“Alright,” Race conceded. “Hey, Spot?”

“Yeah?” Spot replied.

“D’you celebrate Christmas?” Race asked. 

“Yeah,” Spot said. “Why?” Race shrugged. 

“We was talkin’ about it earlier,” he said. “Davey’s Jewish, so he doesn’t celebrate Christmas, but Jack an’ Crutchie do, so they’s celebratin’ Christmas  _ an’ _ Hanukkah. I was just wonderin’ what you celebrated.”

“Yeah, I celebrate Christmas,” Spot said. “‘Cept not really. Just the presents part. I don’t like religion.” He made a face. “What about you, horse boy? What do you celebrate?”

“I’m in the same boat as you,” Race said. “I celebrate Christmas, just not the Jesus part.” Spot chuckled.

“Good ta know,” he said, then yawned. “I’m gonna go ta bed.”

“Okay,” Race said. Spot left to go shower, and Race quickly changed in the room before grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste and going to brush his teeth. After they were both ready, Spot turned out the lights and got into bed.

“Hey, Spot?” Raves voice floated through the darkness.

“Yeah?” Spot replied.

“Thanks,” Race said.

“You’s welcome, Racer,” Spot replied.


	5. A Plan Set in Motion

Despite Race’s fears, his exams went really well. One day, Race had finished his exams but Spot still had one to take. While Spot was in exams, Race wrapped the mug he’d gotten Spot in newspaper, which was all he had on hand. He wrote a letter to Spot and taped it onto the box, which he then hid in Spot’s half-packed suitcase. After he was done, he went to Jack, Davey, and Crutchie’s room. Jack and Davey were cuddling with Crutchie on their bed, taking turns pressing gentle kisses to the blond’s face. Davey’s sister, Sarah, and her girlfriend, Katherine, were spooning on the floor. 

“Hey, Race!” Sarah said. “We were just talking about you! We were thinking we’re all done with our exams, we could have one more D&D session before the break. Kath’s already got a room reserved in the library.”

“Sounds great!” Race said. “Lemme get my stuff, an’ I’ll meet ya there.” he went back to his dorm. Spot was back, having finished his exams. The shorter boy was sprawled on his bed, looking exhausted.

“Hey, how’d your exam go?” Race asked. 

“Fine, I guess,” Spot replied. “Biology can kiss my ass.” Race laughed. 

“Yeah, I get that,” he said. “I’m takin’ chem, an’ it ain’t much better. I ain’t a science guy.” He grabbed his dice and his character sheet and headed for the door.

“Where’re ya goin’?” Spot asked. 

“Library,” Race said, pausing to grab snacks from the mini fridge. “We’s havin’ one last D&D session before the break.”

“Okay, have fun,” Spot replied. 

“Thanks,” Race said. 


	6. Merry Christmas, Racer

The next day, Spot and Race finished packing and loaded their cars, each helping the other. 

“So… uh,” Race said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I’ll see ya next semester.”

“Yeah,” Spot said just as awkwardly. “See ya.”

“Have a good break,” Race said. 

“You too,” Spot replied. Not knowing what else to say, the two boys got into their cars and drove off, going their separate ways. Driving through the familiar streets of Brooklyn, Spot finally reached his apartment building. He parked in his spot, and started unloading his stuff. 

“Hey, Spot!” Spot’s friend, Hotshot, called, unloading his own suitcase from his car. “How was your first semester?”

“Eh, coulda been worse,” Spot said. “Yours?”

“Same,” Hotshot replied. “You started datin’ anyone? Got a special someone?”

“Nah,” Spot said. He thought back to the night before, when he and Race had stayed up until midnight, just talking and making each other laugh as they ate their way through all the snacks still in their mini fridge. He remembered how beautiful Race had looked, his cheeks flushed with laughter, his blue eyes sparkling, his golden hair shining in the lamplight. “‘Least, not yet,” he said. 

“Hey, you’ll find someone,” Hotshot said. “There ain’t no one who can resist the legendary Spot Conlon!” Spot laughed. 

“Yeah, I hope so,” he said. He hauled his suitcase up to his apartment and started unpacking. At the bottom of his suitcase, he found a newspaper-wrapped box that he knew he hadn’t put in there. There was an envelope taped to the box with his name and “do not open until Christmas” written on it in Race’s untidy handwriting. Spot wanted so badly to open it right then and there, but he forced himself to set it on his nightstand. Over the next week, Spot hung out with his friends, sharing stories about college, about sports, about their love lives. On Christmas morning, Spot grabbed the box from his nightstand. He opened the envelope first, pulling out a sheet of paper covered in Race’s messy writing.

_ Dear Spot, _ he read.   
_ This letter is all of the things I’m too much of a coward to tell you in person. I like you. A lot. You’re the most beautiful, perfect boy I’ve ever met, and God, it’s been confusing. At first, I wanted to hate you. I  _ did _ hate you. You were so obnoxious, and stuck-up, and  _ rude _ , but as much as I hated you, there was always a part of me that couldn’t. Then you started being nice to me, and it was so sweet, and my feelings for you started getting stronger. It seemed like you really cared about me. You knew my coffee order, you knew my favorite snacks, you knew when I was getting stressed. You made me laugh when I was crying, and you cheered me up when I was down, and I can never repay you for that. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I love you, Spot. Even if you don’t feel the same way about me, I at least want to be friends. Merry Christmas. _

~~_ Love _ ~~ _ Sincerely, _

_ Race. _

A phone number, presumably Race’s, was written at the bottom of the page. Spot read those four words over and over again.  _ I love you, Spot _ . Spot opened the box, tearing off the newspaper wrapping. Inside was a black travel mug with “I am not throwing away my shot” written on it in gold letters. Spot grinned. He’d been eyeing this mug for weeks. He washed the mug out and filled it with coffee, then took a selfie while drinking from it. He texted the picture to the number Race had given him.

_ Thanks for the present, gorgeous, _ he said, adding a winky face emoji. Race’s typing bubble appeared immediately.

_ You like it?  _ He asked.

_ Almost as much as I love you, _ Spot replied. The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared, then disappeared again. Spot grinned as he took another sip of coffee, imagining the cute blush that must be on Race’s cheeks right now.

_ You really mean that? _ Race asked finally.

_ Looks like I got you all flustered, _ Spot teased.  _ ‘Course I mean it, Racer. Wouldn’t’ve called you gorgeous if I didn’t. _

_ Well you called me “pretty boy” enough while you were teasing me,  _ Race said.  _ Also, is “wouldn’t’ve” even a word? _

_ It’s called a triple contraction, Higgins. Try to keep up.  _ Spot said.  _ And anyway, if you don’t think I meant every single “pretty boy” I said, you’re kidding yourself. _

_ You really meant those? _ Race asked. 

_ Yeah, _ Spot replied.  _ Hey, wanna FaceTime? _

_ I don’t have a shirt on, _ Race said.

_ That makes it even better, _ Spot said.  _ C’mon, I’ll take mine off too. Please? I wanna see you. _

_ Ok,  _ Race said. Spot pulled off his shirt, then opened FaceTime and clicked on Race’s contact. Race appeared on screen, his hair messy, eyes tired, and shirt missing.

“Beautiful,” Spot murmured, taking in Race’s lithe, muscular torso. He grinned at Race. “Hey, baby,” he said. Race blushed.

“Hey, babe,” he said.

“I love hearin’ ya say that,” Spot said. 

“What, babe?” Race asked. Spot nodded. “Are we really doin’ this?” Race asked. “Do ya really wanna date me?”

“‘Course I do, Racer,” Spot replied, his voice soft. Race’s face turned redder. “Sorry, do you not like that?” Spot asked. “I know you’ve told me not ta call ya that about a million times.”

“No, I like it,” Race said. “I love it when you say it like that, Spot.” 

“I love you,” Spot said.

“I love you too,” Race replied.

“I’ll have a present for ya when we get back ta school,” Spot promised.

“Spottie, ya don’t have ta get me anythin’!” Race protested. Spot raised an eyebrow. 

“Spottie?” He asked. 

“Sorry!” Race said, looking mortified. “I swear ta god I didn’t mean ta call ya that, it just slipped out!”

“Hey, it’s alright sweetheart,” Spot reassured him. “I like it. Anyway, I know I don’t have ta get ya anythin’ but I wanna get ya somethin’. Also, we’s goin’ on a coffee date when we get back.”

“Do I get a say in this date?” Race said, grinning. Spot grinned too.

“Nope,” he said. “I’m gonna kidnap ya, an’ you’s gonna be tied up the whole time.”

“Well, I supposed gettin’ held hostage by a boy as hot as you wouldn’t be such an awful way ta spend a mornin’,” Race said. 

“Well if that’s how ya feel, I’m sure we could arrange a hostage situation for ya right in our room,” Spot said, smirking. 

“At least buy me dinner first!” Race said. Spot laughed. 

“Oh, if you  _ insist _ ,” he said. 

“Hey, I gotta go,” Race said as a muffled knocking and voices came through the speaker. “Jack’s callin’ me. The boys’re gettin’ antsy. They’s waitin’ on me so they can open presents.”

“Okay, babe,” Spot said. “I could probably go too, an’ open presents with my own boys. Love ya!”

“Love you too,” Race said. 


	7. Back to School

Race groaned as he pulled his suitcase out of his trunk. Apparently the elevator liked to choose the most inopportune moments to break down, given that it seemed to work like a charm except for when Race had to haul his suitcase up four flights of stairs. Maybe it just hated him. Suddenly, the suitcase was lifted from Race’s hands.

“Looks like ya need some help,” a familiar voice said. Race turned to see Spot standing there, grinning broadly as he held Race’s suitcase.

“Spot!” Race cried happily. “Babe, you don’t gotta carry my shit upstairs.”

“Nah, but I wanna,” Spot said. He smirked. “Might need some motivation, though. There’s an awful lotta stairs between here an’ the dorm.”

“I ain’t takin’ off my shirt, if that’s what you’s after,” Race replied. “It’s twenty degrees out. I’d get frostbite before we reached the building.”

“How ‘bout a kiss, then?” Spot suggested. “You can take your shirt off for me later.” Race rolled his eyes. 

“Why do I put up with you?” he asked. 

“Cuz ya love me,” Spot said. “C’mon, pretty boy. Where’s my kiss?” Race giggled and kissed Spot’s warm, soft lips. Spot tugged Race down by the collar, deepening the kiss. “That’s it,” he said, grinning, as they finally broke apart. “Now I’ve got the energy ta get up those stairs.” Race laughed as Spot hauled his suitcase up to their dorm.

“Okay, close your eyes,” Spot ordered once the door had closed. 

“Why?” Race asked. 

“So I can give ya your Christmas present, ya dork,” Spot said. “Close your eyes, Racer.”

“Alright,” Race said, pressing another kiss to Spot’s lips before closing his eyes and holding his hands out. He felt soft fabric being placed against his skin. 

“Okay, open your eyes,” Spot said. Race did as he was told. In his hands sat a neatly folded red Saratoga Springs Racetrack T-shirt.

“Do ya like it?” Spot asked. 

“It’s perfect, Spot,” Race said happily. 

“Good,” Spot said. “We went there for our senior trip, an’ they were givin’ those out. I’ve just been usin’ it as a sleep shirt, but I figured you’d get more use outta it than I do.”

“Thanks, Spottie,” Race said, kissing Spot. “Hey, which bed are we gonna sleep in?”

“Yours,” Spot replied, picking Race up and sitting on the aforementioned bed, Race on his lap. He wrapped arms around Race’s waist. 

“Spot, lemme go!” Race protested, squirming. “I gotta unpack!”

“The clothes can wait,” Spot growled, moving a hand to Race’s throat as he kissed up and down his boyfriend’s neck. “Also, if ya keep squirmin’ like that, you ain’t gonna be able ta get outta this bed for a week.”

“Spot,” Race gasped, his voice comin’ out as a breathy moan. Spot smirked against his neck. 

“I love ya, Racer,” he said. 

“I love you too, Spot,” Race replied.


	8. Fight

Spot and Race glared at each other, hoarse from yelling. The fight had started something over something so small, so inconsequential, that Race didn’t even remember what it was anymore. All he knew was that they were yelling, and that there was a hatred in Spot’s eyes that terrified him.

“Get out,” Spot growled. 

“This’s my room too!” Race argued. “Ya can’t just kick me out!”

“Watch me,” Spot said, his words laced with threat. “I’m goin’ ta the bathroom, an’ when I get back, you’d better be gone.” Race sighed and grabbed the shirt that Spot had given him for Christmas, but Spot snatched it out of his hands.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Race protested. “You gave it ta me!” 

“An’ I’m takin’ it back,” Spot replied coldly. “You don’t deserve it.” He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Race alone. Race’s eyes stung as he packed books, toiletries, and a couple changes of clothes into a backpack. He went to Jack, Davey, and Crutchie’s room, and barely made it to the spare bed before bursting into tears. Crutchie immediately hurried over, hugging Race close, letting his friend cry into his chest.

“Hey it’s ok, Race,” he murmured. “Wanna tell us what happened?” Through gulping, choking sobs, Race told his friends about the fight, about Spot kicking him out, about him taking the one thing Race had hoped to use for comfort.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” Jack growled, heading for the door. 

“No you ain’t,” Crutchie said sharply. “Not unless Race asks ya ta do it. C’mon, Race. Let’s go get ice cream from the dining hall.” Race nodded, wiping his eyes. He stumbled through the day in a fog, missing Spot,  _ wanting _ Spot. He saw his boyfriend—his ex? He wasn’t sure—a few times around campus, and he knew Spot saw him too, but Spot wouldn’t even look at Race. Race’s heart ached. He wanted to text Spot, to beg him for forgiveness, to apologize. He wanted Spot to hold him close and tell him everything would be alright. As he lay in bed that night, Race realized just how accustomed he’d grown to Spot’s presence. He tried to fall asleep, but he couldn’t. Not without being held. The bed dipped as someone sat down on it. Race looked up to see Crutchie sitting next to him.

“Hey, Crutchie,” Race whispered.

“Hey, Race,” Crutchie whispered back. “Can’t sleep?” Race shook his head. “Want me ta hold ya?”

“Jack an’ Davey don’t mind?” Race said. 

“Nah, they ain’t the jealous type,” Crutchie said. He wrapped his arms around Race’s waist.

“Thanks, Crutchie,” Race murmured sleepily, already feeling more relaxed.

“No problem,” Crutchie said. “Happy ta help.” 

Race stayed in his friends’ room for three nights. On the evening of the fourth night, as they were studying, there was a knock at the door. Jack answered it. 

“Oh fuck off,” he snarled. 

“Can I talk ta Race?” Race’s head snapped up as he heard Spot’s voice, nervous and quiet, from the doorway.

“No,” Jack said, crossing his arms. “Ya can’t.”

“Jack, that ain’t your decision,” Crutchie said. “It’s Race’s.”

“He kicked Race outta his own room,” Jack growled. “He hurt my best friend. I ain’t lettin’ him talk ta Race. He’s just gonna do it again.”

“No I ain’t!” Spot protested. 

“If Race wants ta talk ta Spot, you ain’t gonna stop him,” Crutchie said. 

“Please, Race!” Spot begged. “I was an asshole,”

“Damn right,” Jack said under his breath. Spot ignored him.

“I just wanna talk,” he continued. “Please.” Race closed his book and got up. Spot stood in the hallway, holding a bouquet of red roses and a box of chocolates. Davey pulled Jack to their bed as Race stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

“These’re for you,” Spot mumbled, handing Race the flowers and the chocolate. “Look, Race, I’m sorry.” His voice cracked. “I fucked up. There’s no excuse. I shouldn’t a yelled at ya. I lost my temper. This is my first time in a really serious relationship, an’ honestly, I’m scared. I’m scared I’m gonna lose ya cuz I did somethin’ stupid. Hell, I didn’t even know what ta get ta as an apology gift. Had ta Google it. Look, ya don’t have ta forgive me. I don’t deserve it. I just wanted ya ta know that I’m real sorry. You can come back ta the room anytime ya want. I shouldn’t a kicked ya out in the first place. I’m sorry.” He turned away, his shoulders shaking, and Race realized with a jolt that Spot was crying.  _ His boyfriend was crying. _

“Spot, wait!” Race said. Spot turned back, his cheeks wet with tears, and Race kissed him. “Of course I forgive ya, Spot,” he said. “That fight was just as much my fault as it was yours. Besides, you have no idea how hard it’s been without ya. I missed ya so much,  _ god _ , Spot.”

“So we’s back together?” Spot asked, wiping his eyes.

“Did we even break up?” Race asked. Spot chuckled. 

“Nah, I guess we didn’t,” he said. “Guess that was just me overthinkin’. Bein’ scared you wouldn’t want me back. Kiss me again, please, Racer.” Race kissed him, and Spot’s fingers tangled in Race’s golden curls.

“Here,” Race said as they broke apart, handing Spot the flowers and the chocolates. “I gotta grab my shit.” Spot took the items, placing one more soft kiss on Race’s lips. 

“Alright, pretty boy,” he said. “I’ll meet ya in the room. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Race said. He went back into Jack, Crutchie, and Davey’s room and started packing his bag.

“Everythin’ alright with you two?” Jack asked. 

“Yeah, everything’s great,” Race replied. “I’m goin’ back ta my room. Thanks for lettin’ me stay here.”

“Hey, it’s nothin’,” Jack said, coming over to help Race pack. “You know you’s always welcome in here. Look, I’m sorry. ‘Bout all the shit with Spot. I was just mad. You’s my best friend, an’ I don’t like seein’ ya hurt. I want ya ta be happy.”

“It’s okay, Jack,” Race said. “I appreciate ya lookin’ out for me. It wasn’t necessary this time, but I appreciate it.” Jack pulled Race into a hug. 

“M’just glad ya found someone who makes ya happy,” he said. Race grinned and hugged him back. 

“Me too,” he replied. He finished packing, hugged Crutchie and Davey, and went back to his own room. Spot was sitting on the bed that they shared, watching something on his computer. Race tossed his backpack over by his desk and settled down next to Spot, curling into his boyfriend’s side. Spot’s hand moved to Race’s hair, gently moving through the blond curls. He leaned down and kissed Race.

“I love ya,” he said. “You’s the most beautiful”  _ kiss  _ “boy”  _ kiss _ “at”  _ kiss _ “this”  _ kiss  _ “school.” Race giggled. 

“Awww, I love ya too, Spottie,” he said. “Whatcha watchin’?”

“ _ Critical Role _ ,” Spot replied. “You got me hooked, an’ I hate ya for it.” 

“No ya don’t,” Race hummed. “Ya love me. Ya just said it yourself.”

“Yeah yeah,” Spot said. “Hey, how d’you start playin’ this dragon game thing?”

“Dungeons & Dragons,” Race corrected excitedly. “You wanna start playin’ D&D?”

“I didn’t say that,” Spot said. “Just… in theory, how d’you start playin’?”

“Well, first ya gotta find a group ta play with,” Race said. “Then ya just buy a shit ton a dice an’ pretend ya know what you’s doin’.”

“How d’you find a group?” Spot asked. 

“I’ll ask Crutchie if he’ll let ya join ours,” Race said.

“I never said I wanted ta—” Spot protested, but Race shushed him.

“I know ya didn’t say it, but ya meant it,” he said. “S’alright, I’m sure Crutchie’ll let ya join. This weekend, we can go get ya some dice, an’ I’ll help ya figure out your character sheet. Now shhh, Mercer’s talkin’.” He draped himself across Spot’s lap, Spot’s hands running absentmindedly through his hair as they both watched the epic—and hilarious—saga unfolding on the screen in front of them, both just happy to be back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments I’m a dramatic little shit and I crave validation

**Author's Note:**

> Majors and teams/clubs:  
> Race: dance major, on the Gymnastics and Equestrian teams  
> Spot: Theatre major, on the football and baseball teams  
> Jack: Art major, set design minor, on the baseball team  
> Davey: political science major, on the debate team  
> Crutchie: creative writing major, DMs for the D&D group  
> Sarah: women and gender studies major  
> Katherine: Journalism major, women and gender studies minor, writes for the school paper


End file.
